


this is a fanfiction, not a callout post

by Inche Worm (flammivomous)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Swears tw, just a lil RANT FIC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammivomous/pseuds/Inche%20Worm
Summary: A Waste of Life and an Heir of Time discuss the shitty people who get ignored.





	this is a fanfiction, not a callout post

**Author's Note:**

> this does NOT include the blatantly awful Beforan (e.g., Meenah, Aranea, Cronus.)

==>  Be MARK TOMASSON, Iteration 1.

 

The darkness of the void is surprisingly cool. Comforting. Despite the reaping of his failure being death, Mark finds a sort of lukewarmness in the void.

That is, until it spits him out into another world.

“No, no, no, no, no!” he screams as he falls from the sky, the trees below giving little reassurance in the way of landing. “Noooo!”

His crash landing is surprisingly light, however, and soon, he opens his eyes. The ‘sun’ is in his eyes, and the pink treetops shift ever so slightly with the wind. He feels light, almost as if he can jump and fly into the sky, never to come back down.

“... Huh…?”

He gawks at the sheer impossibility of the world. How can it be that he is alive? That light, hollow feeling is still in his limbs, almost the reminiscing factor of flight… or perhaps being thrown through the air? Shaking his head, Mark tries to remember what happened to him. He sits up, trying to make sense of it all when a breeze that squeezes through the blue tree trunks blows through his chest, sending a shudder throughout his body. Wait…  _ through _ his chest?

Sitting up quickly, Mark turns his head down and looks at the gaping hole through his chest. There is no blood, but there is no flesh; only a solid darkness that won’t let him see into the organs behind his skin.

Oh… perhaps he isn’t alive.

“Don’t you find it disgusting how everyone just ignores the fact that Mituna Captor is a dickhead?”

“Woah!”

Mark crawls back on all fours, wide-eyed at the beige-clad stranger. Where did she come from?! Who is she?! The stranger’s hand is buried in a bag of… is that colored maggots with horns and heads on the front of the packaging?

“Or how people ignore how creepy Kankri is towards Latula and Mituna?” the stranger continues, tossing a handful of multi-colored maggots into her mouth. Crunch, crunch.   
“Who- who?” Mark stutters, shakily sweeping the falling pink leaves into a pile next to a tree. He pushes the pile up adjacent to the tree before crawling on and leaning back against the blue trunk. He pulled his knees up to his chest, half-listening to the stranger and half-dissociating.

“You know, Mituna Captor. That dickhead with the disability,” the stranger continued, and she sat cross-legged in front of Mark. “Everyone always fuckin’ infantilizes him even though he’s an adult. Yeah, he has a disability, but don’t you think it’s ableist to treat him like a child because of that disability?”   


“Yeah, I… I guess.” Mark nods along, trying to process fully what the stranger is saying. “I mean, you should, um, you should– you should never treat an adult… like... like a kid.”

“Exactly! By the way, want a grub?”

The stranger offers a handful of the maggoty snack, and the sight of the still-wiggling babies twisted Mark’s stomach.

“No– no, no, thanks,” he replied, grimacing as the stranger tossed the bag and the handful away.

“Tastes shitty anyways.” The stranger stretches before pulling her hood off. She kicks her legs, letting the blood drive away the numbness in her foot.

“Anyways, Mituna Captor is actually a shitty guy, and no amount of ‘mah babby >A<’ and ‘but Latula wuvs him!!!!’ will change that. He’s sexist towards Meenah and uses slurs at both Meenah and Cronus. And yeah, they’re dicks, but, like– that’s like– that’s like being in an argument with a transgender person and using the tranny slur! Like purposely misgendering Caitlyn Jenner! Like–”   


“Are you like me?” Mark asks, pointing at the stranger’s beige-and-sage-colored outfit.

“What? Oh, yeah.” She picks at her hood. “I’m a dead Godtier. I’m the Waste of Life.”

“Harsh.”

“Don’t get me started on Kankri Vantas,” she continues, changing the topic. “The dickhead may be defying Beforan culture, but that doesn’t fuckin’ mean he can stalk Latula and harass Mituna for being her boyfriend. That’s just being a straight-up dickhead. Also, why is it that he thinks he can speak over Porrim? Not only is he a stalker and an asshole, but he’s blatantly sexist.”

“That actually, uh, actually sounds bad,” Mark remarks. “Bu- but, uh, the, the first guy sounds bad, too.”

“And what’s- what’s  _ worse _ ? Fuckin’ Kurloz. What the fuck do you mean you’re gonna casually ignore how he blatantly uses Meulin and her love for him? And Porrim, blatantly following Beforan culture? And Latula, herself, hiding behind twenty walls of persona and becoming Mituna’s basic caretaker along with his lusus? Which, by the way, is  _ also _ following Beforan culture?”

“M-mm…” Mark closes his eyes, leaning forward onto his knees.

“By the way, take some hot chocolate.” The stranger suddenly pushes a cup of hot cocoa into Mark’s hands.

“Than– thanks…” The heat of the cup warms his face.

“So, like… are we just gonna ignore the shittiness of the Beforan trolls other than, like, Meenah, Aranea, and Cronus? Because the rest of them are pretty shitty.”

“I dunno them, so.” Mark sips the hot cocoa. “But– but I don't wanna meet them.”

“I wouldn’t wanna meet them, either,” the stranger replies, tearing out the grass.


End file.
